A low red sun was
hovering on the horizon as the three of them climbed into Carla’s car — Carla and Kim in the front, Annabel in back. As they pulled out of the
driveway Annabel slunk down in the seat, feeling self-conscious about
how she looked.
Seeing this, Carla told her to sit up. “You look gorgeous,” she said. “Stop hiding.”
About 45 minutes later
they pulled into a parking lot next to a warehouse on the outskirts of
Van Nuys. Although it felt like the middle of nowhere, there were quite a
few cars in the lot and a bunch of people walking toward the warehouse. Upon closer examination they were all women of various ages, many of them wearing eye-catching outfits, some practically naked.
Annabel sat for a few
seconds wondering where they were and what was happening, then was
snapped out of her reverie when Carla opened the door next to her,
leaned into the car, and clipped the leash onto her collar. Carla tugged
on the leash and next thing she knew Annabel was being led across the
parking lot, wobbling on her high heels, blushing bright crimson at
being paraded around in public this way.
But then she noticed
that she was not the only one on a leash — there were two
others nearby. Looking around at the crowd, Annabel saw that all shapes, sizes, and colors were represented, but every
single one of them seemed somehow glamorous. There was a certain pride
in the way everyone moved, including those who — like Annabel — were in a
subservient role.
As they entered they
stopped at a table that held a stack of papers. Carla picked one
up for herself and handed one to Annabel. It was a single double-sided sheet
covered with very small print, with a place for a signature at the
bottom.
“What’s this?” asked Annabel.
“Just a standard waiver,” said Carla, with a nonchalant shake of her head. “Nothing to worry about. Just sign it.”
Annabel hesitated for a
moment. Her father had always told her never to sign anything without
reading every word of it first. She looked up from the paper at Carla,
who gazed back at her impassively. Then again, her father wouldn’t
approve of any aspect of the situation that she currently found herself
in. Shrugging, Annabel sat the paper down and added her signature.
When they handed in
their signed sheets, the girl behind the table gave each of them a
necklace with a number on it. Carla and Kim both immediately put theirs
on, so Annabel followed suit; they were numbers 71, 72, and 73.
From the outside the
warehouse had appeared rundown and abandoned, but inside it looked like a
nightclub, though a sparsely decorated one. There was a bar to their
left and a darkened stage to the right; the space between was occupied
by tables, each with a single candle burning on top. That seemed to be
about the only light there was; the dimness gave the room an atmosphere
of romantic mystery.
They found a table and
Kim went to get drinks while Carla sat Annabel down, snapped off her
leash, and laid it down on the table. Annabel looked around wondering
what people must be thinking of her, a mature woman who was clearly the
sexual plaything of two younger girls. But no one seemed to be paying
attention to her; in fact the club had a surprising air of normality,
despite the many collars and restraints visible, the number of women
dressed in leather, rubber, or vinyl.
Music was playing on the
sound system, and a few people were dancing. Carla and Kim chatted
eagerly, looking full of anticipation, as Annabel studied the stage. It
was hard to see clearly in the low light, but it seemed to hold various
pieces of mechanical apparatus that she could not begin to guess at the
function of. She sat there tapping her fingers, sipping her drink,
wondering somewhat nervously what the night might have in store.
.
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